


Nocturne

by sass_bot



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Body Horror, F/F, Hanahaki Disease, Heavy Angst, Requited Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sass_bot/pseuds/sass_bot
Summary: "Ava..." I understand now. It was never me. It never will be me. I'll keep walking off rooftops until you finally get tired of cushioning my fall.[A short fic exploring the concept of Hanahaki Disease -- i.e. a fictional disease in which one coughs up flower petals when they are suffering from unrequited love]
Relationships: Female Detective/Ava du Mortain
Kudos: 15





	Nocturne

**Author's Note:**

> I got an ask on tumblr asking me if I like the idea of Hanahaki Disease and I decided to use it as a prompt instead -- that sure answered your question, huh, anonymoushatelove? <3

The word slips through her lips without a thought, riding on the lump in her throat through the bleeding core of her heart. It slips through her lips as a petal, blue as the ocean waves, fluttering into her lap.

_“Ava…” Flinching away from me as though I were made of fire. And I am. I’ve lived in houses on fire for as long as I can remember. The flames burn hotter when she’s near me. When she touches me, I could just turn to ash and the wind would swallow me whole._

Nayzak plucks the curiosity out of the white fabric of her nightgown. It’s smooth and fragrant, so delicate she is afraid to tear it between her clumsy fingers. She places it on her nightstand.

She rubs the ache of sleep out of her eyes. What she would give for that gesture to have the power to erase the nightmares waiting beneath her eyelids, to crush them into dust with the palms of her hands. She knows when she closes her eyes, they’ll be there again. Avoidance personified into an inky black shade that slithers along the ground, biting at her ankles, tugging her into the depths –

She feels a cough bubble in her chest and reaches for the bottled water on her nightstand, chugging half of it in one go. With each gulp, the dull sensation tugging at the back of her throat grows stronger and stronger until the pressure is unbearable. She places the water on the nightstand with a shaky hand before doubling over in a fit of coughs. Each cough drags its way through her throat with nails scraping against her flesh.

A choked sob slips through, dressed up as yet another hacking cough as the taste of iron fills her mouth. The back of her throat stings as though it had just been dragged along a grater, but it is far overshadowed by the relief of being set free from the suffocating shackles digging into her esophagus.

One hand reaches up to rub her sore throat and the other rubs the tears out of her eyes. It’s dark in her bedroom, but her vision has begun to adjust. Taking long, shaky breaths, she spares a glance into her lap. The once white fabric draped over her legs is now covered in violet petals, spattered with specks of scarlet. The sight sends spiked tendrils of dread raking down her spine, paralyzing her every nerve.

Her hands, no longer her own, jerking in front of her, propelled by an invisible puppet master, push the petals off of her clothing and into her bedsheets as though they were maggots digging through the fabric and into her skin. She then stumbles off the bed, nearly tumbling face first to the ground in the process.

She shambles barefoot along the icy wooden floor, following the ache in her chest as it pulls her forward, reeling her in by an invisible string. The pressure is beginning to build up again. The agony snakes through her chest, branching out like the antlers of an elk. It wraps around her beating heart and pushes out against her skin.

_“Ava…” Growing farther and father away until she is but a shadow of a shadow wrapping around a dimly lit corner. Snuffing out the lights until I’m alone again. Always alone. How could I have thought it would be different?_

Petals burst out of her mouth like confetti. She can’t spare a glance at the ground and if she could, all she would see is a blur of motion and the swish of fabric. Her head pounds, beating a frantic rhythm against her temples. Her vision can hardly keep up with the pace of her movement.

Fresh air. She’s just going out for some air – replacing the acrid smog that has taken residence in her withering lungs.

The cold wind on the warehouse rooftop is like fire against her shredded windpipe, eliciting even more coughs. Nayzak can no longer control the momentum of her movement – she mercifully drops to her knees before she meets the ledge. Her hands wrap around her throat in a death grip as bright violet hyacinth petals mixed with blood ooze out of her and onto the floor.

She cannot even hear the storm – all she can hear is the buzzing in her mind and the pulsing of temples. She is stuck in a balloon of static that draws the acid out from the pits of her stomach, twisting the organ like a dishrag. A tremor goes through her lips as the wave of nausea crashes over her pulling her into the darkest depths of her shattered consciousness, where the pressure builds and builds.

A peculiar sensation tickles the skin of her chest, like tiny fingers poking and prodding her from beneath her skin. Each movement is suffering like she’s never known before, her body tensing, bending over until she looks like she’s praying, whispering desperate pleas into the concrete through torn vocal cords. But the only word her lips can form is –

_“Ava…” Give me a star to follow – a firefly in the darkness. Carve a river into the earth that I may drift into your waiting arms. Whistle a tune only I know, let it sink into the part of my heart that loves you – twist it for good measure. Give me a reason not to drown in the blood and sweetness filling up my lungs._

More than simply petals, a fully formed hyacinth pushes its way through Nayzak’s lips. She can feel its leaves opening up inside her trachea, brushing painfully against her throat. The fingers inside her chest constrict abruptly, tearing through her skin. She lets out a choked scream, digging her forehead into the floor.

She can’t say a word – or perhaps it is more accurate to say that she is no longer able to give shape to them. Another flower, unable to wait its turn, attempts to push past the first. She can’t even muster up the strength to tear it out of her mouth. All she can taste is the bitterness of the flowers and the iron pooling at the back of her throat. She claws at the ground in despair, trembling in the cold. In a daze, she ponders over whether it would have been more comfortable to die in bed.

It is only by the blur of motion in her vision that she realizes she’s being moved. She can no longer feel anything other than the white-hot agony pulsating against her chest in lieu of a heartbeat. Her limbs are limp, drenched in fatigue. Only when the blustery wind has managed to dry the tears in her eyes, does she see through the bright red– a person, face obscured by the flora flapping wildly across her vision.

 _“Ava…”_ _Please put the words back in my mouth. Reach inside and clean all that is wrong with me. I’m running across the keys, playing my song for you. Don’t bury me in the ocean floor._

Nayzak wants to recognize the arms that gingerly curl around her body – wants to use what little awareness she can to search her mind for this precise memory. It ripples at the edges of her mind – bits and pieces, too scattered to put together again. Oceans apart, they drift along, etched in parchment, and rolled into bottles, bobbing along the water, out of reach, out of mind.

All she wants is the strength to reach up and trace a chord along her jaw – to see her own face reflected in the surface of the emerald waters. She wants to be reminded of the sound of her own name – how her name should sound.

As her vision begins to grow dim, her body too exhausted to continue broadcasting the same futile signal to her vacant brain, a single word, the fading echo of a memory, completely incomprehensible, drops to the cracked flooring at the bottom of her conscious mind, crumbling into dust as it hits the ground.

_“Ava…”_

**Author's Note:**

> If the love is returned, the disease is cured, but I'm leaving this ending open ;)


End file.
